


not a social monster

by templeofshame



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2013, Introspection, M/M, career choices, dj Martyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeofshame/pseuds/templeofshame
Summary: Logically, and when he’s not in a sticky, dimly lit Brick Lane club, Phil is grateful for DJ Mooken Tooken.





	not a social monster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waveydnp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/gifts).



> This one's for @waveydnp, who wanted some Phil and Martyn.

Phil is remembering why he hasn’t done this often, even back when Martyn had gigs all the time. He shouldn’t feel alone, not when he’s stood in the overwhelming flood of bodies that’s currently jostling him and leaning to yell in each other’s ears. But he does, because Dan’s not here. Dan doesn’t have the brotherly obligation, and he scoffed at Phil’s suggestion that getting out of the flat and flailing around to a beat might be a healthier kind of coping mechanism. Right now, Dan’s probably scrolling through Twitter, hoping for a fan photo of Phil out on his own, something that says ‘we’re definitely not joined at the hip, or any other parts.’

But that leaves Phil to dodge parts of other people, and to soak in the awareness that he is definitely not a social monster. He must be some kind of monster, but not the kind that seethes around him now, splitting and joining together in turns, like something out of _Centipede _.__ He’s not good at any of that. Maybe he’s not even a good brother, worrying about these things instead of enjoying the music or celebrating Martyn’s success as shown by the crowd’s enthusiasm. Martyn’s too busy to notice Phil’s corner-lurking, though; he and Cornelia are wrapped up both in the DJing and in the knowing nearly everyone here.

Phil wants to think it’s the worst kind of party, one where the only people you know are the hosts. But this is worse because technically, Phil’s met a few of Martyn’s London friends in awkward moments like this one. Tonight he chose a spot near a speaker partially to avoid any expectation of mostly-deaf small talk; they’d have to small-talk telepathically. Logically, he doesn’t need to hide in the wall of sound; he’s dodged eye contact with a few vaguely familiar faces and overall, this crowd doesn’t care who the hell he is. Maybe it should be liberating. Like the Muse concert. With Dan at his side and Matt Bellamy’s voice vibrating through him, and… nope. Sorry, Martyn, but it’s nothing like that.

Logically, and when he’s not in a sticky, dimly lit Brick Lane club, Phil is grateful for DJ Mooken Tooken. Martyn had nothing on Phil’s crazy ideas, even in the early days when Martyn’s music was a bit like Ross’s in _Friends_. But it was the older Lester son, the one getting a Management degree, who first presented the kind of career ambitions that made people wonder when he’d get a “real job.” If Martyn, the practical one, wanted to be a DJ, even set aside his proper name for a silly rhyming one that wasn’t already taken in the London scene… well, it was no surprise that the dreamer wasn’t going to follow in his father’s sensible footsteps. And beyond unsurprising, it was _okay_. Even now that Martyn’s got a “real job,” as of last month, it’s a change their parents quietly support, not a sigh of relief. Phil knows he’s lucky in many ways not to need any job but Youtube, not for money or parental approval. And Martyn’s definitely helped with the latter.

Phil takes a deep breath. It’s not that he _owes_ Martyn, but he bothered to come here, and is it really supporting Martyn if Martyn doesn’t even see him there? He checks his phone before moving from his spot. Nothing. Maybe Dan’s working on that cringe attack video, or ideas for the radio show, as Phil squeezes into the scant inches between dancing bodies. Or Dan could be doing something that’s just fun. Definitely not reading comments or scrolling through his Tumblr tag or lying on the floor, feeling lost in the universe. Dan can do whatever he wants and Phil is stuck here, surrounded by a jumble of limbs and heads, seemingly shared as one grotesque, energetic, social monster.

Luckily, Phil is taller than the monster, or at least the part that’s near him. Over its many heads, he can see Martyn, bouncing to the beat and fully immersed in doing his thing, with Cornelia at his side. Phil doesn’t have to understand the music itself to be proud of his brother in this moment, proud of his joy and passion. Maybe this whole thing will be better if Phil focuses on that, on watching Martyn and Cornelia _create_. That’s the part that reminds him of Dan. Of him and Dan and the passion project they share. They started out the same, really: making the things they wanted and putting them out there, even building a bit of community more or less by accident. Martyn’s things he wanted to make are just louder, and less… financially viable. This club is well packed, but it’s not like what Phil gets at VidCon, and tonight there’s no cover.

As the beat shifts, or maybe one song ends and the next begins, Martyn looks up and catches sight of Phil. Phil can’t take credit for any lighting up of Martyn’s face, given the starting point, but he does look pleased to see him. Phil expects a wave, maybe, but instead, the hand movement is beckoning. Which means Phil has to extricate himself from the monster somehow. But everything feels easier when he has a clear goal, to get to Martyn.

Phil wades forward through the crowd towards him. The next song must be all Cornelia, or maybe the blonde coming up to her is a guest DJ; either way, Martyn’s slipping away from his laptop and turntables and into his corner of the fray, where Phil meets him. Martyn knows where to stand; people are giving them some space and there’s a cool breeze. Phil breathes it in like he’s been suffocating.

“You made it!” Martyn just sounds pleased, but Phil feels a pang of guilt. Martyn knows Phil’s here and that he’s not always been. He can probably guess why. Phil just has to hope his name is the only four-letter p word in Martyn’s head right now.

“How’s it feel?” Phil shouts, losing all nuance in necessary volume. He stays vague on what, exactly, he means. How’s it feel to be back? To do this when you have work in the morning? To even have space for these questions?

“Great!” is Martyn’s reply. He’s a man of few words even at the best and most audible of times. “Ace,” he adds in his most Northern voice, grinning, teasing. There’s a pause almost long enough for Phil to go on, but he knows Martyn, and he can tell there’s more. When he continues, Phil catches the words more with his eyes than his ears. “Different,” Martyn says. “Like a hobby.” Martyn looks away, to Cornelia, and the blonde woman who does seem to be DJing. His smile is real, Phil can tell, but it’s not simple. Not like the sheer joy Phil was watching just a few minutes ago.

“Then it can just be fun, yeah?” Phil’s thinking of the time Dan’s spent dreading his own audience not so long ago, and the rants he’s heard from Bryony. Maybe they’d all be better off if Youtube had stayed a hobby, stayed something they did just for themselves and each other. Sometimes it seems like that’s what he’s supposed to think, mourning the loss of goofy glory days he’s not sure are even dead. Maybe that’s his brand of denial.

When Phil snaps out of his moment, he sees that Martyn is watching him intently, following the uncertain nostalgia across his face. Someone’s trying to get Martyn’s attention, but he’s not even noticing the crowd for once. “You want that?” He lets out a barely-there chuckle.“It _is_ a load off.”

“I...” Phil thinks. There are a million places he’d rather have this conversation, peaceful places where he could get all his thoughts together. But this is Martyn. Phil can tell Martyn anything, but also, there’s something inherently awkward about too earnest, too serious a chat to Martyn.

“What?” Martyn asks, straining to hear. Agreeing in his own way, Phil thinks, that this is both a terrible place for this, and perfect.

“Maybe I should. Want that.” It feels like something he can say here, over an electronic beat, and it’ll float into the crowd and get trampled. He doesn’t have to think about what that means, not right now, anyway.

“No use in should.” Martyn’s not the kind to get hung up on that stuff. “If you can want what you have, why not?” He turns just slightly, enough to take in the energy of the crowd from its own level. Phil watches him watch the crowd, sees the hints of tension he felt before dissipate. Sweaty and cramped and alien as they are to Phil, everyone seems caught in a moment of joy, or maybe freed in it. There’s no critics, no pressure, nothing to prove. Phil tries to remember when Youtube last felt like that. A simpler time, as they say, when it didn’t have to be so many things in his life. When it didn’t have to be anything. He still has moments when he forgets, when he’s not thinking about analytics and adsense and what some asshole will say in the comments. But they’re fleeting. Phil doesn’t want to touch this moment even as his mouth starts moving, even as his body leans so that Martyn can hear. “Is it good, then? The NHS?”

Martyn laughs, not quite a Dan-snort, but on that plane of existence. “Yes, Phil, the NHS is good. ‘The envy of the world,’ they say.” Martyn lets him off the hook quickly, though, answering the real question. “I like to be useful. It’s satisfying, yeah? I get shit done.” It doesn’t sound like an excuse.

“You’ve always had a head for systems and processes.” Phil can’t say the same for himself; he has to think for a second about what makes him feel useful. A new video or a great idea can be satisfying, but _useful_... other people have to figure into that. In audience anecdotes, bringing people together, or even the right reaction from Dan at the right time. He’s never thought about it, that Martyn could find that feeling in a 9-to-5 management job.

“I have the head for it now, anyway. I help make things work. And by night, I can still get self-indulgent in a club with Corny.” Martyn looks back to where Cornelia is now singing over the blonde woman’s beat, then back to Phil. “Well, not _too_ many nights. But if you don’t ask me in the morning, it’s good stuff.”

“Think you’ll stay long, then? Get your gold watch there?” Is that a thing? Phil’s sometimes impressed with his skill at sounding old even when he’s talking to Martyn, or their parents. No one teases him for it quite like Dan, though.

“Don’t know about that. But it’s a good, steady place while I sort out my own ideas.”

“That’s so…” Phil’s not sure why he feels an emotional sting at that. It’s not like Martyn wasn’t happy before. But it’s not what Phil expected, and maybe Martyn’s got it all figured out, a present and path to a future.

“Ace?” Martyn teases.

Phil rolls his eyes. “You’re just as Northern as me!”

“You can’t prove it.” Martyn’s smirking.

“You’re in our home videos!” Phil protests.

“Does Mum even still have those? The point is, _I_ don’t plaster the internet with all the ammo a brother could want.” Phil opens his mouth to object, but Martyn’s not done. “Hell, Phil, you’ve proved it’s a good way to make a career. But I’m liking being a bit… unsung.”

Phil looks around them, to the flailing limbs and to Cornelia, who is clearly singing even if Phil can’t make out what. He grabs for a pun before the moment is gone. “It’s a shame, I liked her.”

Phil can see Martyn strain to sort it out from the background noise, but maybe what Martyn’s mind fills in will be more clever. The gist is there, anyway, and he waves a playfully dismissive hand at Phil. “If I split the two, the business and the music, I don’t have to try to be... Skrillex or someone. I can make things work outside the spotlight and I don’t even have to worry about my Facebook privacy settings.”

“That’s so great, Mar.” He means it. “But you should definitely look at your Facebook privacy settings.”

“Sure, Mum.” Martyn rolls his eyes.

“Next time I’m over,” Phil warns. “I’ll do it.” Martyn just shakes his head. Phil almost wishes it was actually too loud to think. And not about Facebook. “I think mine’s two heads of the same monster.”

“Youtube? Your friend cut ‘em off, yeah?”

Phil nods. “Both. And… it’s good for her.”

“But…?” Martyn asks. When did this become about Phil? Martyn’s good at doing that.

“I couldn’t… give it up. Either part.” _Unless Dan needed to_ , Phil thinks. Dan, who’s maybe been waving a sword at one head or the other over the past year. But their monster’s just been growing, and they’ve made it through. It might never be what Dan needs. Hopefully.

“There’d be a riot,” Martyn agrees. “And not the fun kind.”

“Will they riot if you don’t get back there?” Phil asks.

Martyn looks out, then, at the crowd. It really is impressive for a weeknight, packed full of joy and community, whether they’re lifelong friends or just allies in tonight. Phil can’t blame him if he says yes, if he rushes back to Cornelia and the music. He’s glad just to watch Martyn watch, to see the way the crowd vibrates with an energy he and Cornelia have given them. Cornelia catches Phil’s eye, waves, but doesn’t signal Martyn. He turns back to Phil. “We’ve got all night.”

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi on tumblr!](http://templeofshame.tumblr.com/post/180920241045/not-a-social-monster-g-23k-words-logically)


End file.
